


Family fights

by Smart_heart



Category: Hilda (Cartoon)
Genre: Multi, The Marra - Freeform, The librarian’s name is Maven, and I gave her a sister, the librarian is a witch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smart_heart/pseuds/Smart_heart
Summary: Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and Maven is soo to learn this. A little background on the amazing character that is the librarian, her family, and, most importantly: what happened to it





	1. Revelations

As soon as she heard those children speaking, Maven knew what they needed.

Why of course she did. How could she not? How could she not? How could she not recognize the creatures who had taken the person she loved the most from her at the mere mention of them?

So she threw them the book. Obviously, she knew exactly where it was, having red it so many times. She schooled her features to look like a welcoming smile instead of a triumphant grin like she wanted. She would finally find her! Maven though as she let the ladder slide through the rows of books.

That new girl, Hilda, she was a peculiar one. Always seemed to find a way to get herself in trouble (though Maven wasn’t actually surprised, considering what her hair meant). She was a kind person, it seemed, making friends with two of the greatest misfits in town. Maven always saw them alone, so she was pretty relieved to see they had made a new friend.

But it wouldn’t matter if Hilda was the most awful kid in Trollberg. Because tonight, she’d be helping Maven find Myra. 

Tonight, she’d be helping Maven find her sister.

She kept a close eye to the trio, not daring go too far away from them. She could continue shelving books later, she thought. 

Not soon after, she saw them leaving, and her heart began beating louder on her chest. After making sure there were no other patrons at the library (an depressingly growing occurrence), she changed the cape she favored while in the library for a black coat, pulling the hoodie over her face.

When she locked the establishment, she still could see the three kids turning around the corner. She quickened her pace, knowing her best chance to find her sister was following the loathsome creature the children were hopefully leading her to.

Her heart beat wildly on her chest, but her steps were as quiet as the breeze messing with her short hair. She had planned to dye it again tonight, the purple beginning to show at the roots again, but that would have to wait.

When Maven turned into Robin Street, she saw the children entering a corner house she could remember passing by during her midnight wanderings around the town. Ah, so that’s where the victim lived.

Maven took her time memorizing where she was, before running back to the library. No use in just waiting there until dusk, and she didn’t want to put her beloved job at risk.

When she arrived at the old building once more, she threw herself on the chair behind the counter, and smiled though still panting from the run.

Just a few more hours, she thought.

____________________________________

The time seemed to drag itself. Three hours had never seemed so long. With each minute, her anticipation got stronger, fidgeting her senses until she couldn’t even concentrate in her books. But finally, finally the time came. She locked the library with shaking hands, beads of sweat forming on her brow despite the chilly night, and she made her way as quickly as she could to the house.

Everything was silent when she arrived at the place, so she settled herself under a tree at the other side of the street, the best spot to see what was happening and going by unnoticed at the same time.

As the moon rose in the sky, she let her mind wander to the time when she was a teen and her sister and innocent child. The time when they’d help their mother cast spells together, the time when Maven taught her how to cleanse her crystals and the whole family would do rituals under the same moon she was under now. The time where her sister didn’t think witches were freaks, that they were weak for avoiding doing harm, that she disowned the family traditions, seeking to be more powerful than they’d ever allow her.

Before tears could begin running down Maven’s pale face, the sound of a car took her away from her thoughts. It parked in front of the house she had been watching, and she observed with interest as Johanna, a very kind and smart woman she had met at a café, got out of the vehicle not with her daughter, but with the boy she’d thought she’d been watching.

Her legs itched to get into the house and try to understand what the hell was going on, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t agonized for long, however, as just a few minutes later, a thick green smoke flew trough the front door’s key whole. 

Maven was on her feet immediately, running after the green cloud for all she was worth. She run through block after block, her breathing loud to her own ears. When finally she reached the gates to the Huldrawoods, she lifted her fingers to the lock and muttered a simple enchantment, the iron giving away to her magic smoothly.

She thanked every deity she knew of when she entered and the cloud of smoke was still visible, even in the dark of night and cover of the woods. She’d searched through every last inch of that forest, and now knew that, without being guided to one of them, she’d never find where the Marra were. 

She usually tried to keep the spell using to a minimum, her mother having been very persistent in highlighting that magic always came with a price, but any price was worth finding her sister, so she muttered yet another enchantment under her breath and suddenly her steps were soundless.

A smile (albeit a nervous one) adorned her lips when a flash of green lights reached her eyes though the trees, and the closer she got, the better she could see the camping-like formation a few logs had been put around a fire, and the faces of the girls sitting on them.

“And then, the bike began riding itself! And the stupid girl couldn’t control it! Her face was hilarious when her friends rode away from her, mocking her!” A high pitched voice said, and the whole circle laughed. 

Maven covered her mouth so they wouldn’t hear her gasp. As they laughed , their eyes became green, and between the sea of cruel features, she found an all too familiar face.

Her straight, light violet hair had been dyed completely black, her long fringe being partially held by a barrette. She was wearing the same denim coat with cotton in the neckline as the day she’d been abducted, the day Maven though she’d lost a piece of her heart she’d never recover again.

And she didn’t look like a prisoner. She wasn’t bound by her wrists, forced to listen to the Marra’s perverted acts against her will, or being a guinea pig for new scarring tactics . 

She hadn’t been taken because she’d grown bitter and those horrid beings saw her as a perfect victim, Maven recognized, baring her teeth in anger.

She had been taken because, In her bitterness,

Her sister had become one of them.

Maven stood up abruptly, making the bush she was hiding behind shake and attacking the attention of the whole group to herself. But it wouldn’t matter if she had a bloody troll threatening her in that moment. Because in that moment, she would have a talk with her sister.

“Myra Underhill” Maven all but hissed as all of the freaky teenagers gasped at the sight of the intruder, and Myra became even more pale than usual as every gaze fell on her. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

The initial shock at the appearance of her older sister washed away from her face, as she let the Marra persona dominate her once more, lifting her confidence. “I don’t go by that surname anymore. I don’t go by any surname, in fact.” She smiled mockingly.

It didn’t take a witch to feel the anger burning inside Maven. Two years. Two years she thought her sister had been abducted. Two years she thought she had failed in her promise to her father to protect her sister. One year their mother had left her for good, leaving her thinking she was alone in the world. 

And Myra didn’t even care.

“That’s not how family works, sweetie” She said with a loathing in the old endearment. “You can’t just throw it away when you decide you’re too good for them.”

When Myra opened her mouth to speak, the other Marra, who had been telling the story before the interruption decided to come into the conversation. “And who would you be, exactly?” She said with mocking sympathy. “And what on Earth is up with you? You look like a witch!” She laughed in disdain.

Maven stood her ground. “I’m Myra’s sister.” She looked at the old best friend in the eye, making sure she’d feel the next sentence on her soul. “Or at least I used to be. And to your information, yes, I am a witch. And unlike that treacherous viper, I’m proud of it.”

More gasps of surprise. “You’re a witch?” The girl sitting next to Myra, one with short caramel hair and round glasses cried. 

“N-no, of course I’m not! They’re pathetic! I- I mean, I was born a witch, but they are just too boring and weak, and that’s why I left them!” She tried to explain nervously.

“Well, in that case” the first girl, with two ridiculous blond piggy tails, who seemed to be the queen bee of the group got up. “You are threatening one of ours. Leave immediately-“ she stood face to face - or the closest she could get to that, being so much shorter than the librarian - to Maven, looking as scary as she could in her teenager form. “Or face the consequences.”

“I am NOT leaving without my sister!”

The infuriating girl raised one blond eyebrow. “That’s what we’ll see.”

Something hard hit Maven’s neck from behind. And as the world got darker, the floor got closer, until she could not resist to succumb into a deep sleep.


	2. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna might not know what Hilda’s hair means, but Maven does: it means that, in this moment the girl is the only person that can help her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: blood mention  
> Actually, I don’t even know if that’s a trigger, but I don’t want to risk it. Stay safe, lovelies

She was gardening outside. The moonlight illuminated her extensive flowerbed, and for the first time since she was five and dropped an acid potion on them, her roses just wouldn’t bloom.

They lay wilted on the ground, the bushes not strong enough to support themselves. It was a truly macabre vision, especially with the putrid smell coming from the rotting plants.

But then, the bushes began to move. The twigs began to intertwine and form a figure. Maven watched horrified as her deep red roses began to melt into blood, and the plants form a four meters tall troll-like creature.

As the blood dripped down the leaves, the librarian raised her gaze to see strings attached to her once-a-rose-bush, just the way a puppet would have. At the end of the strings, controlling the troll, was her sister. Her face bigger than the Moon, her body seeming to disappear behind the trees staring down at her with angry, green eyes and a Cheshire like grin

“You failed me.” Myra hissed. “You failed me, and I’ll never forget you. You failed me and you shall DIE”

Maven’s surroundings dropped as if made of paper, like would happen if one cut the corners of a cardboard box, giving way to nothing but darkness all around her, her sister’s legs going lower than the ground, making her feel like an ant on a platform.

“Myra, I’m sorry!” Maven cried, tears streaming down her face. “Sister, please come- please c-come back!” She stuttered as she dropped to her knees before the flower monster, her tears mixing with the blood on the ground.

“NEVER” The Marra shouted, and with a movement of her hand, made the troll raise it’s hand, ready to strike the librarian.

“Madam!”

The librarian woke up with a start at the child like voice and the small hand on her shoulder. When she could focus better, the nightmare finally releasing her from its crutches, she saw a young face and long blue hair. The Hilda girl, she recognized.

“Where am I?” She asked as she tried to control her beating heart.

“Safe.” Came another voice, a more mature one. Johanna offered her a cup of coffee as she sat on the bed at Maven’s feet, and she happily accepted. “The kids found you this evening passed out near the woods. We didn’t know where you live, and we just couldn’t leave you there, so we brought you here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Um, no, of course I don’t. Thank you. Can you tell me exactly where you found me?”

“You em were lying at the gates to the Huldrawood when we went out to get a badge. Why were you there?”

“You were crying in your sleep.” Hilda pointed at Maven’s puffy eyes and wet cheeks before she could answer the first question. “Are you okay?”

The librarian took a deep breath and looked out of the window near the bed. “If I said yes I’d be lying.”

“What happened?” Asked another kid from the other side of the room, near the girl Maven usually saw him with. So, the whole trio was there.

“That’s was none of you business, kid” Maven spatted and regretted it immediately when everyone’s faces fell. They had taken her out of the streets and welcomed her into their home. The least she could do was be grateful.

“I think I just lost the person I love the most.” It was obvious in the boy’s face he had come to regret his question.

“Can you tell us who that was?” Hilda asked gently, and Johanna glared at her.

“Hilda! That’s not polite!”

“No, that’s fine.” Maven said as she sipped her coffee. “It was my younger sister.”

“Oh.” Johanna’s face filled with sympathy for the librarian. “I’m sorry for your loss. How did she die?”

Maven twisted her nose. “Die? Who said anything about dying?”

“W-well, but if she didn’t die maybe you can still get back to her.” The girl she recognized as the biggest bookworm in town after herself spoke for the first time, and Maven sighed.

“I doubt that. She made a bad decision. And I didn’t stop her. And when it was done, I only judged her. I promised I’d always protect her. And I _failed_ ” She spit out, chocking with unshed tears.

“Hey, if you don’t try, you’ll never know!” Came yet another voice. She looked at the bedside table and gaped at what she saw.

“An elf?” Maven spat in surprise.

“You can see him?” Hilda asked, just as surprised the librarian could see Alfur as the librarian was at seeing him. “You have signed elf paperwork?”

“Why of course I have! What kind of witch doesn’t have elf paperwork!”

Maven realized those were the wrong words the moment they came out of her mouth. She just couldn’t belive her carelessness. How could she give them that information!?

“You’re a witch?!” David asked wide-eyed, and Maven stood a little straighter.

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Alfur chirped. “Witches are the only kind of humans elves usually get along with. No offense.” He said looking at the other people in the room.

“Witch or not, it doesn’t matter. You need help. What can we do?” Johanna asked, and Maven sighed in relief as she realized that this friendship wouldn’t be ruined by ignorance as many others were before.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to do. Nothing can undo what happened to my Myra.” Maven lifted her head abruptly, an old ritual coming to mind. “Unless...”

She turned her head and faced Hilda, a plan forming on her thoughts already. “Unless what?”, the child asked.

But before she could get her hopes high, Maven realized she couldn’t be selfish enough to let her wishes get in the way of a kid’s safety. “Forget it, Hildie. It’s nothing.”

A heavy atmosphere intruded the room, and silence hung heavily around them.

“Frida, David, your parents must be preoccupied. Hilda, can you walk home with them?” Johanna asked softly to her child, who looked like she would discuss before her mother lifted her eyebrows, and she realized it was not the time to question her mother’s attitudes.

“Yes, mum. I’ll take the opportunity to take twig out for a walk. Come on, guys.”

The door closed behind the children, and Johanna took her gaze from them to her guest. “There is a way to help you. You just don’t want to say it.” It was more a statement then a question, and a right one. “I’ll go get us something to eat, and then we can discuss it, okay?”

Maven nodded with her head hanging low, until Johanna put her hand on the librarian’s shoulder, making her look up at the older woman, a blush warming her neck and creeping up to her face at the proximity.

“Okay.” She whispered as her host left the room.

After a few minutes of uneasy thoughts and shifting movements from Maven’s part, Johanna was back with a bowl full of cookies. Before she could even offer the snack, the librarian began speaking, wishing to end this as soon as she could. And if there was any remote chance that she could get what she needed and have her little sister back, she was taking it.

“Who is the father?” She asked rather harshly. “Who is Hilda’s father.”

Johanna sat down at Maven’s feet again, blushing prettily, and the librarian had to admit the colour looked rather nice on her. “I- er, I don’t know.”

Maven gaped at her with her mouth open like a fish. She’d never been one to judge people, and she was a firm believer that one could do what they wanted with their body, but the sweet artist hadn’t gave the impression that she was that kind of person.

At Maven’s reaction, Johanna was quick to clasp her hands over her mouth, and the pink on her face turned to green. “What, NO! Oh Gods, it’s not what you’re thinking! Hilda- Hilda was adopted is what I mean!”

Maven’s jaw snapped shut and she cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. The poor woman looked like she was going to faint before her. 

“I beg your pardon. I should have worded my doubts. So you mean you didn’t get to meet her biological parents?”

“Er, no, I didn’t.” She murmured as she fiddled with a biscuit on her hand. “I found her in the woods, actually. I had gone to my grandfather’s cabin to see if I could find some inspiration. The day I ventured farther into the forest, I heard a baby weeping. Oh, Maven, she was so young and she was _alone_. I couldn’t leave her there. I took her in and fell in love with her.” At the end of the explanation, Johanna was in tears.

“The two of you are perfect together. I’m glad you found each other. Does she know?”

Johanna gave her a dry little laugh. “Yeah, she does. Not like it’s easy to keep something from her, anyway.”

“And do you know why she was abandoned?” Maven quirked an eyebrow.

“Of course not! All I know is that they were monsters if they couldn’t even care for the safety of their child!” Johanna spatted and the Maven could feel all the suppressed rage beneath her skin. The mother might not know, but the witch? Oh, the witch had seen this story a thousand times.

“Let me tell you something. Surely, at this point of your life, you have already realized that some hair colours are... normal. Expected. Within the realm of possibility, let’s say. But I’ll ask you something: have you ever seen anyone other than Hilda with blue hair?”

Johanna furrowed her brow as she searched her memory for the image of someone with such unusual hair colour. “No, I can’t say I have. But I imagine it’s some kind of genetic diversion or something? The doctors could never put their fingers on it.”

Maven pinched the bridge of her nose, stressed to see the culture passed from mother to daughter amongst her kind so lost to most people. “Oh my- no, Johanna, I’m afraid it has nothing to do with genetics. Or science, even. When one is born with an unnatural hair colour, it is believed that this person has magical gifts, is, let’s say, prone to engage in witchcraft.”

She paused for a moment, letting the other woman try to wrap her head around that information. “It can be passed down to generations... or pop in suddenly on a child coming from a normal family. When it happens, the children are usually abandoned, given away, mistreated, and murdered even.” Maven knew she’d gone too far when a sob erupted from the sweet artist, and she tried to give her what she hoped was a reassuring look.

“Don’t fret. These things would happen on old times. Now this knowledge has been practically forgotten. Your Hilda just had the fortune of being born into a family of cruel magicphobes who happened to know of this.”

Another sob came from her. “How can you say she was lucky?! It was awful what happened to her! She could have been hurt!”

“Well, but instead you found her, didn’t you?” 

Johanna was silent again, and she stuffed her mouth with a vanilla biscuit. “Yes, I suppose I did.” She answered when she finished chewing.

“But if it’s such an obvious sign, why don’t most people know about this? How come no one suspects?” Johanna gesticulated as she spoke, throwing crumbs around the room with her movements, and Maven scoffed.

“Why, since they created hair dye no one can tell natural from fake hair anymore. Before it existed, witches would usually hide their hair in some way. But nowadays there’s no trouble. Some of us still keep a part of our hair natural to let others know we are of their kind.” The librarian lifted her hands to her scalp, separating the hair strands so that the gaping woman in front of her could see the purple sprouting from the roots.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence went by, and it was only broken when the mother opened her mouth again. “Why did you tell me all that?”

“Because the only way to save my sister is if Hilda helps me” Maven answered after taking a deep breath.

Johanna was silent, but she nodded in a sign for her to continue. “The Marra are a society of kinds. They seek teenagers who want more power, more control, more... freedom. They twist their minds to make them believe that spending the rest of your immortal lives giving people nightmares is the best way to live. And when they convince them of such, the adolescents go through a ritual, in which they gift their soul to the goddess Niorun, acquiring, in exchange, immortality and the ability to enter people’s dreams.”

“Why would that goddess do that?”

“She doesn’t know what they use their abilities for. As the goddess of dreams, Niorun thinks that the Marra’s loyalty to her comes from the desire to give pleasant dreams to others, the way she does, and not nightmares. But the point is, my sister has joined them.”

Johanna lifted her head as if she’d been electrocuted, her jewel bright eyes as wide as the sun. “Beg pardon?” She stuttered with effort.

“You heard this correctly. My sister has joined the Marra. And that was two years ago. I- I believe that she has already performed the ritual” Maven felt the stinging of tears behind her eyes, but she refused to let them drop. “She hadn’t aged a day...” she whispered.

Johanna squares her shoulders confidently. “And what can we do?” She asked in a strong, unwavering voice. “You said you needed Hilda. I’m sure she’d have no trouble in agreeing to help.”

“You don’t understand!” Maven spat. “Not only is the spell we’d need to do dangerous, but the training Hilda would need would unlock her magic forever!”

She hugged her legs and hid her face on her knees. “And I d-don’t want that t-to happen to her...” Maven cried, unable to contain her tears any longer as she realized the depths of the situation her sister had put herself in.

She only heard the gentle padding of Johanna’s feet getting lower and then higher, right before feeling her hand on her shoulder. “Here” Johanna offered a napkin and a smile as the librarian looked up. 

At that moment, Maven was painfully aware that she had broken down in front of Johanna. _Wonderful_ , she thought.

“Calm down, and talk to me. Why do you need Hilda for that spell?”

“Because it requires the energy of two witches to work. That’s also what makes the spell so dangerous. There’s no way to get my sister’s soul back,” unless you want to fight a goddess, she added in her mind. “And so the only way to make Myra human again would be by forming a new soul for her.”

“Can... can only witches do that?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Witches have more energy, and more control of it. A normal person would probably die with that spell.” Maven sighed, knowing there was no way Johanna was allowing Hilda to help her now.

“And Hilda is the only witch in Trollberg?” The question was met with a nod.

“You said she’d require training... can the training make the spell... safer?” Johanna left the bed, now pacing hypnotic circles on the wooden floor.

“Certainly. The better the witch can manipulate the energy and elements, the safer the spell is.”

“Could you train her?” The answer took the librarian by surprise. A small spark of hope ignited in her chest.

“You’d let me?”

Johanna sighed. “Hilda will kill me if I don’t let her try. But if it’s been too long and we still don’t think it’s safe, I’m afraid I’ll have to put my daughter first.”

She barely had any time to process the information before she had an armful of witch. “Thank you. So much.” The librarian whispered in the crook of her neck as she hugged her, before taking a step back and drawing a sharp breath. Bloody hell, what was it with this woman that made her so soft?!

“You’re welcome” Johanna smiled shyly at Maven. At any sign of danger to her family, she would make Hilda back down immediately. But why cut down all the options before even trying? 

Why not allow a witch a little happiness?

____________________________

Hilda closed the door behind her and looked around to find her mother and the librarian sitting at the table, and Twig sniffing Maven’s shoes, to where he ran as soon as the door opened. 

“Hey mum.” She said as she approached the women. The walk to her friends’ houses had been a tense affair, the three of them too immersed in their own thoughts to speak. The tension in her house, however, seemed to have dissipated.

“Hey Hilda!” Johanna greeted her with a nervous yet happy smile. “Are you up for an adventure?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a while for me to post! Sorry... but please, tell me what you are thinking! Comments make me right faster!

**Author's Note:**

> My first Hilda fanfic!! Tell me what you think of it!


End file.
